Unpredictable
by drama fixated
Summary: She thought of him as unpredictable. Wild, fierce, reckless. It wasn't as if she could help it – that was how she saw him.


Disclaimer: The story's mine, the characters aren't. They belong to J.K. Rowling and other related companies.

Author's Note: This goes out to **Crys **– for being my support and evil comrade. Hopefully this makes you feel better.

- - -

She thought of him as unpredictable.

Wild, fierce, reckless.

It wasn't as if she could help it – that was how she saw him. With all his cautiousness and reasoning, at heart he was reckless. And he couldn't help it either – it was a part of him.

Sometimes that recklessness cost him. Like now. She sighed. Whenever he didn't listen to his mind, or her – he paid the price. Dearly – and everything and everyone that were close to him got the so lucky chance to be used to bring him down.

She frowned at that thought. Such gloomy thinking she had done lately – to no use. Daily brooding wouldn't help him or her in the long run – not at all. So why did she keep doing it? She sighed again. Maybe she was being apprehensive – and thinking so much of the inevitable. And how that would happen, and how she couldn't do anything about it.

She felt helpless. She _hated _feeling and being helpless. But what could she do? All the smarts and common sense she possessed wouldn't help him – especially when he "_finally_" came face to face with Voldemort.

She winced at that. Wouldn't that be a pretty sight, she mused – especially with his tendency to be unpredictable.

Not that she could blame him. That recklessness, although it had cost him to lose Sirius, the sole epitome of a true father figure he had in his life, had saved his life countless times. How it did, she was astounded at that herself.

But it had – and she was honestly grateful that it did. That unpredictableness was a part of him – and she couldn't change him, she knew. He was the way he was. She was perfectly fine with that; she wouldn't have him be any other person than himself. Much like he would rather have her be herself than a superficial, egoistic person who did nothing but backstab people. She smiled slightly to herself; that was the sweet harmony they had between them – they had come a long way since accepting each other.

A shadow crossed her face at that moment and she exhaled deeply. In the past seven years she had known him, she had never known his unpredictability would reach a height like this. Never had she expected for him to do this. _But you knew he would pull something like this one day_, her mind mocked, _and that day came_.

She wished it would shut up.

And now she couldn't blame him for running off. But taking off without a notice, and to fight Voldemort? She shook her head. Where that impulsiveness of his would take him, she did not know. She only hoped that it would not lead him astray and have him venture into another inlayed trap of Voldemort's. One was more than enough; way more than enough.

And then again, who knew? she thought bitterly. He could meet up with anything at any time; he couldn't safe guard himself from every single devastation there was. Not forever, not now, not ever. A mocking smile spread across her mouth.

Right now all she could hope fervently was that his impulsiveness wouldn't land him into grave trouble – or worse. She gulped silently at that thought.

_Get a hold of yourself_, she sternly reprimanded herself. _It won_'_t do any good to be all blubbery and a nervous wreck_. _It won_'_t help anything_. She combed her fingers through her hair anxiously and continued to wait. Waiting for him to appear – or any silent or clear sign that would tell her how he was.

The sound of the portrait hole opening caused her to cease moving . . . to cease breathing or anything to make her presence known altogether.

A voice – a _very _familiar voice – greeted her. "Miss me, Hermione?"

- - -

They talked for hours, about everything and yet about nothing. She was so happy she couldn't speak, she couldn't cry – she was relieved beyond belief. No words could convey how deliriously elated she was then – a mix of relief and happiness bubbled in her. Relieved that he was alive, happy that he was there with her.

Grief and a glimmering something she couldn't describe illuminated in his clear green orbs; she couldn't even begin to imagine what he had seen, what he had heard, what he knew now.

He told her everything, never flinching as he revealed the innermost intimate and most delicate details. She admired that – in the harsh slap on one's face reality of war, horrors too unimaginable to even think about that were unleashed upon the earth, couldn't be discussed airily, or even talked about at all.

He could talk about it – make the horrors unknown, without one cringe as he did so. Steeling himself to bear it and not grin happily, but grimly, was his game plan, she knew. He didn't stutter and instead spoke clearly, without emotion.

There was a detached tone to his voice, she couldn't help but notice. He didn't speak flatly – he just didn't let any emotion seep into his voice. She knew everything had changed him; and still he remained the same person he had been for the past seven years.

She knew better than to assume that he was the same, though. In an instant everything changed around a person and then they were no longer the same person they were before. Something inside them changed; they weren't the smiling, broody teens they had been before the war; now they were experienced non cardboard cut people, but they were uncertain of everything still. Uncertain of the future, unsure of the past, unsure of the present. Uncertain of everything.

They didn't know what to do, what to say anymore. In one instant, they had changed drastically. Innocent they no longer were; as much as they wanted to wallow in naivety more, they knew they couldn't.

They knew how the world truly was now and couldn't erase that knowledge away from their minds, as much as they wanted to. That's how he felt now. He wanted to erase everything he knew now from his mind, so he wouldn't remember and recollect it every minute of his life.

But he knew he couldn't – it would stay with him, and there was nothing he could do about it. Not that he could do anything about it in the first place – once something was with you, it stayed with you. That he knew, and knew very well. Every screaming and bloody memory he had would haunt him for the rest of his life – all the pent up regrets would tease and taunt him in nightmares. Darkness was all he knew at night.

But now, he mused, there was a light in his vision. A bright light – his savior. The sole person he could trust with his life and everything of him and wouldn't expect anything in return. The sole person whom he could confide in and have his doubts truly soothed. She would save him – like she always did. Without her, he knew, he wouldn't be alive. Even if he was alive, without her – he would be dead.

And that was why he had run off without telling anyone, especially her, where he was going and what he was up to – he couldn't bear with the thought of putting her, of putting any of his friends and whatever remnants of family he had in danger, in the "people to be killed" zone. He just couldn't bear the thought.

And so without a word, he had left. He knew he would leave everyone in grief – but with a steely determination in his heart and eyes, he knew it had to be done. For everyone's safety, for his sanity and will to live. Unbearable guilt had ravaged him day and night out on the battlefield – but still he fought on relentlessly. No way in hell would he give up, would surrender to his enemy. _No way in hell_.

He closed his eyes now and breathed deeply. She sensed that he wanted to be alone and decided to comply with his wish, softly saying a "good night" to him in the fire lit darkness and leaving without another word, another sound.

The words left unbidden from his mouth, before he could stop them. "Don't leave."

She paused for a minute, standing at the edge of the staircase, the firelight illuminating her figure. "Do you want me to?" Her voice was cracking, on the verge of a breakdown. Despite her calm appearance, she didn't feel as serene as she looked to be.

His voice was hoarse. "No."

A small smile lit up her face and she came back to the fireplace, where he was, and sat down next to him. Nothing more was to be said – words were for later.

For now they sat in comfortable silence, feeling a strange overwhelming sense of peace come over them. She was thankful for it – silence suited them just fine. With them, there was no need for words – a look would convey everything they wanted to say. And she was happy with that – so was he.

He may be unpredictable, she realized, but that was a part of him. What made him Harry. And as he sent her a tentative smile then, she was glad that he was unpredictable.

Wild and reckless made a man who he was, after all.


End file.
